


happy birthday, eliott

by toxica939



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 13:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19358395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: He’s woken by gentle fingers spider walking up the bumps of his spine, skimming the wing of his shoulder blade, tickly and gentle up the back of his neck, and into his hair.





	happy birthday, eliott

He’s woken by gentle fingers spider walking up the bumps of his spine, skimming the wing of his shoulder blade, tickly and gentle up the back of his neck, and into his hair.

Eliott buries his face in the pillow, groaning when Lucas’s nails scratch just right.

Sleep clings to all the corners of his body like cobwebs, eyes gritty and unwilling to open. He groans again, grumbled, makes all of those sleepy morning noises.

Lucas lips graze his shoulder, and his chest is cool, where it’s pressed to Eliott’s bed warm arm.

“Happy birthday,” Lucas says, gentle, indulgent. Eliott can already see the smile, even with his eyes closed and smushed against the pillow. It’ll be the helpless one Lucas does, corner of his lip pinched between his teeth like he’s trying to bite it away.

Eliott wants to see that smile.

He makes a production of rolling onto his back, stretching into the new day; backs of his hands against the headboard and feet starfishing into cold pockets of empty bed.

“Morning,” he says, finally taking Lucas in.

Lucas, who has resettled himself against Eliott’s side, leg thrown over Eliott’s hip, fingers back to that creepy-crawly thing again; raising goosebumps in the dips of Eliott’s collarbones and down the centre of his chest.

He thinks, sometimes, that Lucas’ eyes might be the bluest thing he’s ever seen. Summer skies and open, bottomless water. A vastness that Eliott is fascinated by.

They’re warm now, and Lucas blinks at him. “Do you want your gift or cake first?”

Gifts mean expectation, and those pretty blue eyes weighing heavy and hopeful on him, waiting to see if he likes whatever it is, if he’s appropriately touched or grateful or excited. And Eliott’s sure he’ll love whatever Lucas chose but he’s not ready for the production yet, he wants Lucas to keep looking at him exactly the way he’s looking at him now; like it’s the morning, and he’s woken up in love again. Like anything could happen today.

There’s no better gift than the pink in Lucas’ cheeks, the way they go round, and boyish, dimples creasing, when he smiles at Eliott. The way his eyes sparkle.

“Cake,” he decides, like it was a tough choice, and Lucas vanishes out the door, leaves Eliott to haul himself up against the headboard, waft the sheets back into order over the bumps of his knees.

Lucas comes back balancing the cake on a plate, one hand cupped around the wavering candle flame, two forks clamped between his teeth.

He spits the forks onto the bed, folds his knees under himself to put the cake under Eliott’s nose.

It’s small and round and white. There are sprinkles. Eliott half wonders if it was home made but Lucas cuts him off before he can ask.

“I’m not singing,” he says. “So you can just blow it out.”

Eliott laughs. “I still need to make a wish.”

Lucas’ lips roll in between his teeth, contrite, and he nods for Eliott to continue.

Eliott takes a moment, watches the flame ripple, thinks about his birthday last year, about all the tiny, and not so tiny ways his life has changed since then. Looks at Lucas, waiting so patiently for the day to start, so obviously brimming with plans, eyes gone liquid; soft and steady where he used to be skittish.

He blows, doesn’t wish for anything at all.

:::

It’s blistering out. The kind of heat that makes the horizon waver, has him damp at the armpits and the base of his spine, in the creases of his arms and legs.

“This is brutal,” Lucas is saying, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should have just stayed in bed.”

The idea has its merits. It certainly did after Lucas has kissed Eliott’s mouth, sticky sweet, peeled the sheets free from Eliott’s body and kissed the rest of him awake as well.

The memories make him flush hot, which isn’t helping anything. Some fresh air is probably a good idea in the long run.

And besides, it’s not every day he has a birthday, and Lucas had seemed eager to spend time with him out in the open.

“I’ll have to share you all evening,” Lucas had said. “Let’s do something just us this afternoon,” he’d dragged his nose up Eliott’s cheek, smile blurred, taken sips from Eliott’s open mouth. “Let me spoil you.”

Saying no hadn’t even been an option.

“Does this place have air conditioning?” he asks.

Lucas blushes a little, as much as he can, when the sun is turning him pink anyway.

“It’s not even inside,” Lucas says, wincing. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Eliott shakes his head, shakes Lucas hand, where it’s held in his own, palms sweating against each other. “No way, we’re doing it.”

Lucas still looks doubtful so Eliott leans over to kiss his cheek, has to do a little hop to avoid a man walking in the other direction. “We’re doing it,” he says, decisively. “Romance me.”

That makes Lucas laugh, like it was supposed to, and Eliott gets that feeling again, like he’s swallowed a helium balloon, like if Lucas wasn’t holding him down he might just float right away.

“I love you,” he says.

Lucas knocks their shoulders together. “I love you too. Now shut up, it’s too hot to talk and walk at the same time.”

Eliott feels a little less in love when Lucas makes him climb nine flights of stairs, but the view from the roof terrace is enough to make up for the pinch in his lungs.

He puts his hands on his knees and breathes. “How’d you know about this?”

Lucas straddles the low wall around the edge without a care in the world. “Alexia knows someone who lives here. Or dated them or something. She said it was cool,” he’s looking out over the city, hand up to shield his eyes.

“It is,” Eliott agrees, absently. He’s too busy watching the twist in Lucas’ torso, the way the muscles in his arm bunch and shift, the sweat dampened hair at his temples.

He’s never wanted anyone like this, like a physical pull in the middle of his chest.

He’s careful, when leans over, because Lucas is balanced on the edge of a building and Eliott quite likes him in one piece, but there’s nothing gentle about the kiss he gives him. Hot and wet, too much tongue probably. Lucas’ hands fly to Eliott shoulder, fingers biting in. He looks dazed, when Eliott drags himself away.

“What was that for?”

“Does it have to be for something?”

Lucas’ face is quiet, eyes ticking back and forth like Eliott is a book he’s trying to read. It’s a lot, that kind of focus, but Eliott likes it.

Lucas produces lunch from his backpack; thick cut sandwiches and warm cans of coke. Another slice of birthday cake, slightly squashed.

They bypass the table and chairs to their left for the only patch of shade in sight, eat cross-legged on some faux grass in the corner of the terrace, where someone has erected a little trellis for a handful climbing plants that haven’t really grown in yet.

Lucas asks again, if he liked his presents, paused with a thumb at the corner of his mouth. Eliott, who is now the proud sponsor of a baby raccoon somewhere in America, and the owner of the two records he lingered over in the store a month ago and never got around to buying, nods.

“Of course,” he gets Lucas by the chin, yanks him into a buttery kiss, the kind that smacks. “You’re the best.”

Eliott pulls his shirt off when he’s had his fill, uses it as a pillow to lay back, hand cupped over his bloated stomach.

Lucas edges closer, knee knocking against Eliott thigh.

“Come here,” Eliott pulls him down beside him instead, close enough to touch but not touching.

The sky is clear above them, no clouds to watch, just blue for miles, enough blue to swallow him up.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes,” Eliott comments.

Lucas snorts. “No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

He feels sleepy now, lulled by his full belly and the heat of the air all around him, by the sound of Lucas shuffling.

“What time are we meeting everyone?” Eliott asks, eyes closing.

There’s a pause, movement, like maybe Lucas is checking his watch for no reason at all. “Not until six. We’ll have time to go home first.”

That’s good, Eliott thinks, he needs to change his shirt.

“I’m going to blow you in the shower,” he murmurs.

Lucas’ laugh is delighted, clear as a bell. “It’s meant to be  _your_  birthday.”

“Exactly. I can do anything I want.”

Everything starts to feel fuzzy around the edges, birdsong gone quiet, everything warm and still and comfortable. Maybe he’s asleep already, maybe he thinks he’s talking but no sound is coming out, maybe the hand in his hair isn’t Lucas at all, maybe maybe maybe…

:::

He does blow Lucas in the shower, leaves him knocked back against the tiles, dark-eyed, bottom lip bitten up between his teeth. It’s a good look on him.

They crank the shower to freezing, after Lucas has repaid the favour and then some, because it’s still hotter than hell outside.

Eliott lays himself out on the bed, after, lets the close, stifling heat dry him. He flinches a couple of times when a bead of water trickles down his ribs.

He has no idea where Lucas is getting the energy to get dressed from.

“We were supposed to meet in the park,” Lucas is saying, doing that little shimmy to get into his shorts. “But the girls are saying it’s too hot still so Imane said we could use the community centre. She’s got contacts now her and Sofiane are...whatever.”

Eliott nods. That’s none of his business. And he only knows the bare basics from things Lucas and Idris have said. He’ll have to ask when Sofiane gets back, see if there’s a bridge to be built there.

Lucas kicks him, brings him back inside his body. “You need to get ready,” he says. “You are the guest of honour after all.”

Eliott groans. He’s not really a centre of attention kind of guy. Not on purpose anyway.

“If there’s a video tribute, we’re breaking up,” Eliott tells him, dragging himself over to the pile of clothes he’s started keeping in the corner of Lucas’ room.

He can’t even feel the air moving around him when he walks, that’s how hot it is. It’s weird.

Lucas scoffs. “Bas’ still sore about the one I put on insta. Trust me: not going there.”

Eliott smiles at him, wonders if he can get away with wearing a vest that’s more arm hole than shirt to his own birthday party. Decides he can do what he likes.

:::

He calls his parents on the walk down there; listens to stories from the first week of their vacation, promises not to forget to water the plants;  _yes, Dad, I’ve been home._

He hasn’t. But he’s been lying to his parents for as long as he can remember and it still comes easy, especially these days, when his life is supposed to be transparent to both of them or some shit. Now they think they owe it to him to keep watch all the time.

He hasn’t told them how suffocating it feels yet, hasn’t had the energy, but this holiday couldn’t have come at a better time. He misses them a little now they’re not hovering, it’s kind of a nice feeling.

“Mum says hi, Dad says he’ll hold you personally responsible if that fancy plant in the kitchen dies.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I watered it yesterday.”

“You did not,” Eliott doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “Suck up.”

“I knew you’d forget,” Lucas exclaims. “I was doing you a favour!”

Eliott throws an arm over his shoulders, inhaling deep through his nose; that baking concrete smell, blossoming flowers. There’s almost a breeze out now but it’s just sitting up hot air.

Lucas pulls a face, wheedling out from under his arm. “It’s too hot.”

“What’s the point of being the guest of honour if I can’t cuddle the host?” Eliott asks. He thinks he might have sweated on the shoulder of Lucas’ t shirt. He hopes he doesn’t notice.

“I am  _not_  the host. None of this was my idea, I wanted to stay in bed. You want to cuddle Daphne, be my guest.”

:::

Daphne, bless her heart, has made a cursory attempt to decorate the community centre. While Yann, who Eliott might gift his first born, has brought along a free standing fan to set up across from the one that’s already there.

The group of them sprawl on the floor in the middle of the crosswind, drinking luke warm beer from sweating bottles, everyone sluggish and complaining about the heat.

Eliott takes the joint Arthur offers him, passes it on to Yann without having any.

Emma lifts the hair off the back of her neck with a grimace. “So happy birthday, Eliott,” she says. “Are you enjoying your terrible birthday party?”

Daphne looks mildly insulted. “Maybe it would have been cooler down by the lake,” she muses. “Should we go?”

Lucas, where he’s spread out across the floor, head pillowed on Eliott’s leg, shakes his head. “It’s too far. Maybe when it gets dark?”

They all hmmm.

It’s not terrible, Eliott doesn’t think. They all came out for him, even Idris and the boys, there’s a song he half recognises playing quiet and tinny on somebody’s phone, there’s beer, there’s weed, there’s Lucas.

He’s had worse birthday parties.

Later, Daphne produces another white frosted cake. It’s got his name written on it in blue icing and whoever did it has spelt it wrong.

That’s not terrible either, no matter how mortified she looks. Eliott tucks her under his arm while they sing to him. Lucas and Arthur have their heads thrown back, emoting like it’s the national anthem or something, and Eliott finds it impossible to feel anything other than unspeakably fond of of them all.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to have friends like this.

:::

They don’t go to lake, they peel off into groups of three and four, make their ways home through hot black air that pulls at them, sticks their clothes to their bodies like vacuum wrap.

Eliott strips naked as soon as Lucas closes the bedroom door, lays on his side of the bed in the dark, trying to will a breeze in through the open window. There’s a car alarm going off somewhere, rhythm to it like a pulse.

Lucas sits beside him, cards Eliott’s sticky hair back from his forehead. “Did you have a good day?” he asks.

Eliott nods, turns his face into those gentle fingers. “The best. Thank you.”

Lucas huffs a bit, like saying thank you is silly, but he shuffles down until their faces are level, brushes feathery kisses over Eliott’s mouth.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, quiet like secrets are. “I love you.”

Eliott lays there, while his body sticks to the sheets, and to Lucas, and to the air.

Another year gone. Another year older. Another year almost wasted, but not quite.

No, he thinks, watching Lucas fall to sleep, not quite.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm perfectshadeof on tumblr if you want to say hi


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